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Deemed to be too little, often dismissed yet he always wanted to be a delivery owl - to have a wizard of his very own and be useful. Unfortunately wizards usually choose the bigger and stronger owls, he never stood a chance.

Night was a time for owls to hunt and no wizards would visit their forest at this time … at least no wizard of good repute. A man flew in; he was atop a hippogriff. His robes tattered, his scraggy black hair uncombed, and he was as pale as a vampire. However, what piqued his interest was the letter on the man’s hand. He intends to ask for an owl to make a delivery.

The other owls eyed this wizard warily, yet the little owl can clearly see that this man was not as dangerous as he seems, for surely if the hippogriff allowed him to ride on it’s back, he would not be evil… The other owls hooted their word of caution as the little owl eagerly approached the man on the hippogriff.

The wizard raised his eyebrow as the little owl eagerly twittered about and tugged upon the letter. “So you want the job?”

The little owl bit the wizard’s finger in what he thought to be in an affectionate manner, for he would finally get his chance.

The wizard winced slightly as the overly enthusiastic owl bit him. He studied the little owl and smiled. He opened his letter and added a line on it and gave it to the small owl. “Harry Potter, Hogwarts Express.”

==================

The little owl hooted happily and gave his new master an affectionate bite; he yelped and becan to muttle low curses. ‘Pigwidgeon, he was named. Pigwidgeon he is from here forth.’

His heavy presence could be felt minutes before he entered the shrouded room; head held high, eyes glittering sharply. His physical health had not decreased with age -- he briskly walked up to the pantry, opening it harshly. He stopped for a moment, discerning between the many assorted bottles lined up carefully, before taking his pick.

He sat down warily on the couch, eyes restless. Darting them about, they settled briefly on the door before continuing their survey of the damp surroundings. Taking a swig from the flask, his hand rubbed his pocket conspicuously. The window rattled, making him flinch. His face was tight, his actions edgy.

The creature watched him with narrowed eyes, taking note of his every movements. Lazily switching his lion-like tail, it ambled away from its perch atop the cabinet. As light as a cat, nimbly leaping from it's hiding spot, it sauntered over to the pale man, eyes focused wholly on his face.

The man took no notice of the animal and continued jerking at every possible sound. Circling his object of interest amusingly, biding it's time before attacking, the beast twitched his long ears out of habit. The man was staring at nothing in particular, his eyes shadowed by his fear. The creature intended to scare him, and scare him thoroughly. The unsavory man deserved it.

It pounced dangerously, claws out, hissing and landed on the man's lap. The man gave out a yell, his eyes widening to impossible limits. Jumping to his feet, the animal slid to the floor.

Breathing hard, the man only stared wide-eyed as the kneazle flicked it's large tail side to side angrily. It leapt at the man's foot, claws ripping the cloak there to shreds.

"Get off me," the man cried, trying to banish the fiery brute from where it was attached. The kneazle only hissed louder, it's claws digging deeper. The man hopped, thinking fast. His lord couldn't see him like this.

As if on cue, Voldemort walked in, a disgusted look on his features. After a few moments of silence, he asked, his voice deathly still, "Rodolphus, what are you doing?"

She heard the crowd make a great deal of noise and looked down, only to notice a boy with black hair standing alone. She appraised him carefully, flailing her tail around in a warning.

He's only raised his arm and shouted something, she thought. I won't breathe fire, yet.

Then, a long stick came from somewhere distant. Another man was shouting as the boy climbed on the stick. She watched the boy ascend and fly far above her head. She turned her head skyward, immediately suspicious of the boy's intentions, to watch his every move. He dove and her maternal instincts told her he was after her eggs.

I'll show him to steal my eggs, she thought determinedly. So she opened her mouth and shot fire at him, but she missed as he pulled up.

The crowd made more noise as did the shouting man, but she didn't care, and neither did the boy since he flew back above her head.

He was flying in circles now as she watched. She opened her mouth once more to release more flames. The boy, however, swooped down, but she was ready and swung her tail up.

She heard more yells and screams as she felt one of the spikes catch on something. With some satisfaction, she knew her eggs were safe for now.

He flew above her head a third time, now moving from one side to the other.

What is that boy up to now? she wondered in exasperation, allowing her neck to stretch up toward him.

He moved a little higher as she brought her neck out as far as possible before roaring.

What do you want with me? she thought, shooting some more fire at him.

She spread out her large, black wings and came up off the ground a little. Then, the next thing she knew, the boy was gone.

Where is he? she thought angrily. Where did he go?

She heard the crowd make more noise than before and saw the boy flying over the mass of people. The men that had brought her from her home ran over to her, and then the world around her went black. When she woke up, she was back home.

Maybe it was only a dream, she thought.

She brought her tail around her and noticed something on one of the spikes. She lifted her tail up to eye level and saw it was a piece of a strange dark material. Like the boy had worn.

Title: Fred and George's New Pet
Word Count: 238
Warning(s): None

"Hey mum, look what we found!" Fred called as he ran into the kitchen.

George followed at his heels, carrying what appeared to be a hedgehog. Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove to look down on the eight-year-old twins.

"Can we keep it mum?" George pleaded. "Please?"

"I don't know," she began. She looked at the creature George was holding up, regarding it with some suspicion. "Do you know what it even is?"

"Sure we do, it's a hedgehog," Fred told her. "We even asked Charlie, and he said it was a hedgehog."

Their mother looked at the little animal in George's hands. Then glanced between Fred and George, both boys looking very hopeful.

"Take it outside and feed it something," Mrs. Weasley relented finally. "I must be crazy..."

Grinning widely the boys took their new pet, whom they promptly named Percy, and set him on the ground. Fred got a dish from the kitchen and put some orange peels on the plate. The little animal immediately went berserk. It began to rip up their mother's flowers in the garden. The boys ran after it, hollering.

"Percy, come back here!" Fred yelled.

"What's gotten into you, Percy?" George shouted.

"I'm right here, you two," Percy announced from the back door. "Mum asked me to check on you..."

Uric sat at his desk under bright lights humming along to the song coming for the lime green bird beside him. He reached over and plucked a feather out of the backside of the fwooper.

“Today is the day my darling!” He set up a parchment and quill to begin his letter. “They think you’re dangerous, and your voice has made me insane! Ha! You’ve only done my health good and I’m going to prove it to that ridiculous Ministry.”

He dipped the newly picked quill into the ink and scrawled a messy letter stating his experiment and the final product after three long months with his bird. He attached his hardly legible letter to the foot of a barn owl waiting on his widow.

“Come my pet, we’ll make some lunch for dinner.” Uric stumbled into the kitchen with his bird swaying on his shoulder.

***

After a few weeks of waiting for a reply, Uric awoke to find a handsome owl sitting on is bed side table waiting with its leg outstretched. He eagerly ripped open the letter and with a smile on his face he turned to the top of his headboard where his precious fwooper was resting, still singing her beautiful song.

“I have to go on an outing today! Unfortunately they refused to invite you along.” He sighed a heavy sigh. “Oh well, might as well leave now.” He jumped out of bed, not bothering to change what he was wearing, he grabbed his toupee, and before you could remind him of his shoes he had apparated out of his apartment and into the ministry.

As he walked through the Atrium he was greeted by the stares of people all around him, whispers, and pointing fingers.

They know of my success! Brilliant! He picked up his pace now reassured by those around him.

As he entered the meeting room, already filled with members of the Wizard Council, he was once again met with funny stares, though he now realized that they all had a shocked expression on their face. When he reached out to shake one of the member’s hands to say hello, she recoiled and ran for the door.

“I supposed you’d all like to see the results of my successful experiment?” Uric turned to face the audience, who had now changed their expressions to mild interest, some were even laughing.

“No, I believe we’ve seen quite enough thank you!” A stern man sat in the front row and was completely aghast to have such a man stand before him. The man stood as though to leave but nearly jumped after coming to eye level with Uric’s head.

“I say man! One thing to show up in the nude, all together another to wear a dead badger on one’s head!”

“Hundreds,” said the stranger with a grin. “Then those have hundreds more. Sell ‘em for a couple of sickles each, and you’re set, mate.”

Mundungus eyed the jar greedily. “How much for the lot?”

“Ten galleons.”

“That’s a galleon each! You just said I could ask a couple sickles. What kind of gormless prat d’ya think I am?” asked Mundungus hotly.

“Well, this is your initial investment. You’re paying for shipping and handling, mate. But if you’d like to try your hand at smuggling them all the way from Australia, be my guest.” The stranger made like he was going to leave.

“Fine, ‘ere you go, that’s ten galleons,” Mundungus said, grudgingly parting with the coins. But he knew there would be a good market for the Billywigs when he got back to Hogwarts, especially among the fifth and seventh years who would be desperate for something to take their minds off of their upcoming O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. It was the same each year, but Dung had never had an opportunity to get hold of Billywigs before. He couldn’t pass this up.

Mundungus held the jar up to the street lamp to examine the contents. Sure enough, roughly ten, bright blue, spinning insects flitted around the jar so quickly that it was hard to count them. Only when one came to light on the bottom of the jar, could he see the wings on the top of its body and the long stinger tail.

Mundungus smiled. Yep, his fellow students would pay nicely for Billywig stings.

He slipped the jar into the inside pocket of his overcoat and went to meet the Knight Bus, whistling happily.

He climbed aboard and started to make his way to the back of the crowded bus. As it lurched forward with a bang, Mundungus, still focused on the profit he would make off of the Billywigs, lost his balance and fell heavily to the floor. He felt something pierce his backside.

"Ah, blimey!"

For a brief moment, he was aware that his profit was about to get away, but in the next instant, he couldn’t care less. He started to laugh giddily. His fellow riders gasped as he floated to the ceiling. What a wonderful feeling! It was even more fun when a couple of other passengers drifted out of their own seats and joined him in the air.

It would be two days before Mundungus came back down to earth, literally. But until then, he didn’t care that he’d lost his ten galleons, been placed on probation for unlicensed possession of Billywigs, and confined to his room for the remainder of the holiday. Of course, that would all change when the Billywig stings wore off.

The house was in disarray. Chairs lay overturned, several pieces of broken crockery littered the carpet, and there was not a single cushion left on the sofa. There were several soft scratching noises before a loud ‘ping’.

Two harried looking witches came barreling into the sitting room. The taller, much younger witch was stammering apologies as she ran, tripping slightly on a pile of silver forks. The older witch stopped long enough to pull out her wand before scurrying after her daughter.

“I can’t believe you fell for that sob story,” she chastised as she chased the small furry creature through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

“I thought it needed a good home,” the daughter cried petulantly.

“We had a good home,” her mother replied sarcastically. “Look at it now.”

The kitchen was decimated. Every drawer hung open, each knob chewed to shreds. The cabinets hung on their hinges, a single pin away from crashing to the floor.

“Did you get the Muggle contraption?” the mother called out anxiously.

“I have it,” the daughter sniffed, “but it’s my best watch, Mum. Do I have to use it as bait?”

“Yes. You let the Niffler in, you need to get it out.”

The young witch held out her arm, tears shining brightly in her scared eyes. Within seconds, the Niffler appeared out of nowhere and hurled itself at her arm. Just as it began to bite down on the watch band, her mother stunned the Niffler.

“Now,” she began sternly, “you take that right back to where you got it, Hannah Abbott. Don’t be bringing home any more stray creatures. I let you keep the Kneazle, and the Pygmy Puff. I didn’t complain when you brought home the rat and that horrible toad, but no more. If you bring home one more stray, I’ll make you get rid of them all.”

Charlie Weasley edged nervously towards the dragon. It was his very first time with a dragon and he was apprehensive. The dragon lifted open one large, scaly eye and surveyed him, ready to attack if he got any closer. It let out a low growl.

Charlie Weasley removed a small object from his pocket and whistled to it. This time the Dragon’s eyes flew open and it stood erect. He gradually walked closer to it till he could see how much damage had been done.

The sight left him shocked.

It’s whole hindlimb was riddled with arrows and blood had caked over it. The dragon was obviously in terrible, terrible pain.

But what could he do? Gently, he started removing the arrows one by one. The dragon calmly looked upon him flinching just a little bit when he had to yank the arrow especially hard to get it out.

And finally every last arrow was out. He wrapped the limb in a thick, white bandage.

‘Rest,’ he told it softly, stroking it’s scales. ‘You’ll need it.’

The dragon laid it’s snout on top of his head as if to bless him before falling asleep, letting out a small flame now and then, through it’s nostrils.

Charlie looked upon the dragon with a smile on his face. Just being with them made it worth it all.

A Wedding Gift and A Birthday Present

Mountains of brightly colored boxes teetered on the floor of Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen. Various boxes, all in shiny paper with huge bows, sat on the table. People had brought in heaps of presents to give to Bill and Fleur, and one of the oddest sat on a chair. The wooden bars of the cage, which were as thin as toothpicks, appeared ready to snap at any moment. A little bowl of seeds and water sat on a newspapers that were on the bottom of the cage and now covered in droppings.

The plumage of the bird, its head tucked under its wing, appeared to be the same color as orange, lime, and lemon sherbets mixed together. About the shape and size of a tennis ball, the little avian remained uninterested in its food and continued to doze.

However, the little animal perked up its head as Fleur came upon it. “What will we do with zis thing? Who gave zis to us?”

“Hagrid,” Bill replied as he went over to look at the little animal. “It’s a Fwooper. It’s got a silencing charm on it.”

“I’ve never ‘eard of it,” Fleur remarked as she opened the cage. The little animal hopped onto her dainty, white finger. Then, without warning, it fluttered to her shoulder. She jumped, but soon went to admiring the bird’s pretty colors. ‘It is beautiful,’ Fleur thought at the little animal took an instant liking to its new mistress. ‘I bet it sings beautifully.’
With a wave of her wand, Fleur opened up the mouth of her new pet. The next moment, a deafening sound echoed throughout the kitchen. Fleur fell to the ground, trying to bat the animal off her shoulder. The wail seemed a thousand times worse than a banshee’s wail.

“Tais-toi! Tais-toi!” Fleur shrieked as she clamped her hands over her hears.

“Silencio!” Bill hollered. The little animal’s beak continued moving, but no sound came out. Fleur instantaneously plucked the silent bird from her shoulder and stuffed it back into the cage.

“We sell that zing,” she announced as she ran her hand through her hair. “A Fwooper. My God! What a ‘orrible animal!”

“I told you it had a silencing charm on it,’ Bill said as the little animal pruned its feathers. After it finished its cleaning, the little animal tucked its head back under its wing and continued as if nothing happened.

Title: A Birthday Present
Words: 260
Warnings: None

He unwrapped the paper from the jar sitting on the table. The tag on the outside read, ‘Happy Birthday, brother-in-law. I thought this might be to your taste.’ The fine porcelain and ornate oriental designs on the jar attracted his attention. He studied it, deciding that this gift might be expensive.

He opened the lid and heard a noise from inside. Then, a single orange snake’s head snapped out. The reptile unhinged its jaw and opened its mouth to reveal two sharp fangs. It hissed, and the man withdrew his hand. However, the animal got restless inside, and the jar swiveled and tipped. The find porcelain cracked into several pieces as it crashed to the floor.

A three-headed snake with the colorings of a tiger began to move jerkily across the floor. “Oh . . .” the man muttered to himself as he drew his wand. The one head kept hissing while one of the heads struggled to move towards him.

“Petrificus Totalus! “Petrificus Totalus! “Petrificus Totalus!” The man steadied his hand as he cast the spell three times to stop each head. With a sigh of relief, he went over and stomped upon each frozen head.

A beautiful blond woman walked into the room. She looked at her husband, and in a bored voice asked, “What was that noise?”

“Tell your sister not to send deadly animals a presents,” the man hissed as he kicked away the remains of the runespoor.

“Really, Lucius, you shouldn’t be ungrateful,” Narcissa said with a sigh. “I told Bella you would like it.”

Several Muggles cramped around the Loch Ness cried out in surprise and excitement. However, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was not excited at all. This particular Muggle tour, Let’s search for the Loch Ness Monster, was an agony to Firth, the head of the department. Every year it had to be held – which meant every year he, with his junior partner Stroud, had to find a way to hide the humungous kelpie.

Mixed in with the excited tourists from all over the world, Firth and Stroud secretly performed memory charms on the lucky Muggles who saw the kelpie.

‘Bloody hell,’ said an exhausted Stroud loudly, ‘why can’t we hire people to keep performing these spells?’

Suddenly, the so-called Loch Ness Monster jumped in the air, as if to show off it’s skills. The two silently cursed themselves for not stunning the kelpie – that was, of course, not effective since the kelpie would happen to float on the surface of the lake, but the two secretly thought it would be much, much easier than putting two hundred memory charms on twenty Muggles each year.

Stroud reached for his wand, but he tripped over his coat hem – he wasn’t used to Muggle clothing, and fell over. At the same time, his wand disappeared into the black, deep waters of the lake.

Letting out a loud sigh of annoyance, Firth attempted to reach for his colleague’s wand.

And the next movement happened all very slowly. Firth fell head first into the Loch Ness, grabbing a Muggle girl as he went down. The girl’s parents reached for their beloved daughter, at the same time falling into the lake as well. The guide attempted to save the people, but knocking down several people in his hurry, the number of people in the Lake increased.

So, suddenly but slowly, the entire tour began to fall – literally, into the Loch Ness.

And a few days later, both Firth and Stroud found themselves among the massed ranks of the unemployed…